


What It Was

by celestlyn



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-28
Updated: 2012-03-28
Packaged: 2017-11-02 15:17:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/370428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestlyn/pseuds/celestlyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follow Harry's stream-of-consciousness as he rides the Hogwarts Express leaving Hogwarts behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What It Was

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

What It Was 

The rhythmic rocking of the train lulled him into quiet contemplation as the miles ticked by, leaving Hogwarts, like most things....in the past. 

It wasn't the memory of Vernon's abusive treatment (and yes, he was Vernon, not Uncle Vernon, for that endearment was reserved for someone that one considered family and he hadn't thought of the Dursleys as family for a long time). 

It wasn't Petunia's icy stare and sharp reprimands, or the revulsion showing on her face as she shoved a few tidbits of food his way after they'd all had their fill. 

It wasn't even the humiliation of being beaten up by Dudley, on a regular basis, that made him wish he'd been born someone else. He'd long since shoved the Dursleys into the farthest corners of his mind. They deserved no better; they were all dead to him now. 

It wasn't the crushing of innocence and loss of childhood when he became, "Our. New. Celebrity." It wasn't his 'willing' sacrifice that stung of betrayal. And it wasn't the thought of his Order of Merlin 1st Class that sat like a stone in his gut. 

It wasn't the curious eyes boring into him as he entered a room or the still vivid image of a bloodied Snape staring into Harry's eyes as the light left his own. 

It wasn't the relentless pain of Fred and Creevy, Moody, Remus, Tonks and Sirius’s deaths that twisted his insides into knots, although he felt his eyes sting a little as Hedwig approached, winging to the fore of his thoughts, a place where he seldom allowed her. It was still too much, too raw. 

And it sure wasn't the moniker 'the Boy Who Lived...Again' or 'Destroyer of Voldemort' that brought back his most fervent wish since Hagrid had beat down the door and changed his life forever. Perhaps he would have it tattooed across his forehead, obliterating his lightning bolt: "...just Harry". Perhaps it would be his epitaph when he'd finally used up however many lives he'd been granted. 

It was the small hand, extended in friendship, that he'd refused, and the hurt that had so briefly flashed across the pale, pointy face. It was the venom and something else behind the voice that spat, "Scared, Potter!?" 

It was the steely eyes that sought him out across the Great Hall at breakfast each morning and the smug expression he'd seen on his face when the entrance of the Room of Requirement was battered down. It was the tear-streaked face in the bathroom mirror, and the blood. So much blood. 

It was the trapped and agonized expression on Malfoy's face that horrible night on the astronomy tower, and the complete and utter terror as Malfoy had reached out for him, angry flames licking at his heels. It was the iron grip around his waist, and the blond head collapsing on his shoulder. 

It was the small, glowing truth that formed and grew inside him, triggering a longing so deep that he could scarcely breathe. He stroked the smooth surface of the odd, hawthorn wand absently, fingering the tip, and allowing the feeling to find its place, the feeling that had been so long denied. His lips twitched into a tiny smile and he knew exactly what he was going to do.


End file.
